


Overheated

by ThePenultimateCookie



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:13:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21871378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePenultimateCookie/pseuds/ThePenultimateCookie
Summary: Sometimes your mind gets a little too full, and when you gotta clear it you gotta clear it.
Kudos: 13
Collections: Sanders Sides Secret Santa 2019





	Overheated

Roman was lying down.  


Well, Roman _had_ been writing, then drawing, then singing, then writing again, and his brain had gotten overheated.  


Perhaps that was a rather strange way of describing it (or so he had been told), but that was the term that he used. Too many thoughts spinning and spinning and kinetic turns to thermal and _boom_. Overheated.  


So, he had gone on a walk, that was what those annoying _💓positivity accounts💕💗_ always said.  


But, of course, walking means thinking and thinking means more thoughts and more heat and so Roman had just laid down on the edge of the park that he had been walking past.  


Or maybe fallen over.  


Or both.  


He didn’t really care. The grass was soft and the sun was dancing on the inside of his eyelids. 

He could hear birds and cars and the whizzing of those insistent buggers that still lingered in his brain.  


And a man.  


“Goodness gracious, are you injured? Should I call an ambulance?”  


Aha! After, well, some amount of time, someone actually stopped. That someone sounded half concerned and half like it was an instinct more than empathy.  


“Nah,” Roman said, dismissively swatting at the figure with one rather pathetically raised hand.  


“Nah?” The man repeated, the word sounding foreign on his tongue.  


“Nah,” Roman confirmed.  


“So, why are you just lying there?”  


Roman sighed, moving his left hand to lay on his stomach rather than at his side. “Why aren’t you?” he breathed.  


The man spluttered indignantly (people really do that in real life? (well, Roman wasn’t one to judge)) “I have places to be,” he demanded, probably tugging on the front of a blazer or straightening his tie if Roman could be bothered to open his eyes to check but goodness gracious did he sound like the kind of guy who would wear a tie.  


Roman was a little confused as to why the man sounded so adamant, why would he care if Roman didn’t believe that he had some oh-so-important appointment to keep?  


“Really?”  


“Well,” the man’s voice faltered (huh, weird, one word cracked the stone right in half, and whaddaya know there was blood), “I have things I need to do.”  


Oh god, he was probably tugging on his blazer again, or straightening his glasses.  


“Need?” Roman replied lazily, drawing out the vowel for no real reason. “You _need_ to do them? Do they really _need_ to be done?”  


“I need to go and buy groceries as a matter of fact. So yes.” Despite the gravity with which he said those words, the man apparently succumbed to gravity and sat down next to Roman.  


Roman opened one eye and looked at the man. He looked, exactly how he had expected him to look, with his legs neatly crossed and his hands in his lap.  


“Oh, _fact_ It’s a matter of _fact_ , is it?” he teased.  


“What else would it be?” The man’s voice had lost some of its bite, becoming the more soothing, low voice that Roman expected that it was meant to be.  


“A matter of consequence?” Roman suggested.  


“What would be the consequences?” The man asked. Roman was rather beginning to like this man’s voice now. It was similar to his own.  


“You would have groceries,” Roman shrugged (it turns out that it is surprisingly hard to shrug while lying down). Then Roman stopped and frowned slightly. “That’s what you’re after isn’t it? Well, I suppose that consequences aren’t always negative, they just have a bad reputation.”  


The man made a small noise in the back of his throat, that contemplative look still on his face, his legs neatly crossed and his hands in his lap.  


-  


About a million years later (or, y’know, ten minutes), Roman heard more footsteps coming towards him. The were light, yet strangely uneven. The footsteps stopped for a while, and Roman could feel the person's gaze lingering on him. He sighed.  


“Uh….”  


Ah, so it was another man. That was really all Roman had to go on at that particular time. He didn’t want to open his eyes just yet.  


“What’s your name?” this new man asked in a rather growly voice. In fact, Roman had never heard a voice be so growly and yet so timid at the same time.  


“Why do you want to know,” he asked lazily.  


“I-“  


Before this new man could answer, Roman reached out a foot and kicked him gently (well, sort of gently) with one of his steel capped boots.  


“Ow!” The man exclaimed, scuffling backwards. Roman imagined him hopping around and holding his foot and felt a smile tighten his cheeks.  


“Burned by iron!” Roman exclaimed, accompanying his words with dramatic hand movements, but the effect was probably muted somewhat by the fact that he was lying on the ground. “You shan’t take my name Fairy!” he declared.  


“You kicked my shin!” the man cried, probably throwing his hands up in exasperation.  


Roman paused for a moment. “…Technicalities,” he muttered, casting the notion away with a sweep of his hand.  


It was silent for a bit, and Roman wouldn’t have been surprised if the man had walked away, judging by his quiet his footsteps had been. But, on the other hand, he would have been a little surprised that he would be so boring.  


“You, think I’m a fairy?” he asked, the faintest trace of a smile in his voice.  


“Are you not a fairy?” Roman asked back. Not boring then.  


“No!” the other exclaimed, probably holding a hand on his chest in indignation.  


Roman’s brows creased. “How do you know?”  


“I’d rather be a vampire.” Endearing, he sounded so excited.  


Roman cracked one eye open. Scratch the whole ‘throwing hands up in exasperation’ and ‘a hand on his chest in indignation’ thing, they were probably in his hoodie pockets the whole time.  


“Well, you certainly look the part,” he muttered, opening his other eye and scanning the figure above him.  


The man sat down heavily next to Roman, his long legs strewn out and his hands propping himself up behind him. “Thank you,” his said.  


“Isn’t the sun burning you then?”  


The man paused for a moment, tensing up, but then he relaxed onto his hands. “Nah. I’m way too powerful.”  


“More powerful than the sun?” Roman asked, getting up onto his elbows in surprise. “I suppose it is possible,” he muttered, laying back down, “in a realm with vampires and fairies.”  


The man made a small noise of agreement, bringing one leg towards him with the other strewn out and propping himself up with his hands behind him.  


-  


“Are you okay?”  


Wow, that was quick! Or not, again, Roman wasn’t really sure.  


“Probably,” he replied, feeling that it was an appropriate response when regarding the thought that had popped into his head when he had heard the new voice, unsure-ity.  


Probably not all that helpful for the other without that little bit of context but, y’know.  


The new man (another man, huh) took a few steps closer, the sounds of his steps changing from hard taps on concrete to the soft rustle of grass. “What’s wrong?” he asked in a gentle voice, like melted chocolate mixed with milk.  


Roman had been asked a direct question, and decided to give a direct answer (this time). “Brain overheated.”  


“Oh I understand!” Roman wasn’t quite sure why he believed that, but he did. “I get a little fried sometimes too.” The man stopped, and Roman could picture his brows creasing slightly as he chuckled “I don’t normally lie on the side of a road though.”  


“What do you do?” *please don’t say go on walks please don’t say go on walks please don’t say go on wa-*  


“Bake?” A tentative suggestion.  


“You can bake?”  


This question became slightly redundant when Roman opened his eyes to look up at the man. Of course he could bake! No one looks or dresses like that and then can’t bake!  


“I like to think I can,” the man shrugged, sitting down with his legs slanted to the side because of course he sits with his legs slanted to the side!  


“That’s nice,” Roman said, closing his eyes again and running a hand through his hair, doing absolutely nothing to change the way that it flopped backwards (he was lying down after all). “I’m sure you’re very good.”  


The man beamed so bright Roman could see it through his closed eyes, along with him clasping his hands under his chin because that just something that this guy would do. “Aw! You’re _sweet_.”  


“Was that a pun?” _Obviously_ he makes puns too! How could Roman not have foreseen this!  


“Not one of my strongest I’ll ad-mitt! Get it? Like an oven mitt!” The man sounded so excited! Puns were like gold to him!  


Roman paused for a moment, thinking. Then he opened his eyes again. “Words are powerful tools. And you use them to create lighthearted humour.” The man’s smile faded slightly and what was left turned sheepish. “That is admirable.”  


The man smiled a bemused sort of smile and tilted his head to the side like a puppy ( _because of course he did-_ ). “To make puns?” he asked, his ever-present smile lingering in his voice.  


And, one commander of words to another, Roman said, “to use words in a way cleverer than most people think.”  


The man hummed in a way that was half pensive and half proud, resting his hands on his knees that were slanted to the side.  


-  


“What are you doing?”  


Another man? Either it was human nature to stop when you see someone lying down outside and so everyone was stopping, or it had been several years and Roman was losing his sense of passing time. Either one was likely to be honest.  


“Laying in the grass next to a pavement on the edge of a park,” Roman replied blankly. “What does it look like I’m doing?”  


“Something _totally_ normal, _obviously_.”  


If Roman’s eyes were open, he would have narrowed them. This man’s voice just didn’t sound, _real_. It sounded straight out of an old movie.  


“Not really,” he said. And if it _was_ normal then he was living in a very different world to this new man.  


“Really?” Okay, Roman was pretty sure that _this_ one placed a hand on his chest in indignation. “I see people lying in the grass next to pavements on the edges of parks all the time.”  


Roman would have narrowed his eyes even further. “I don’t think you do,” he said in a suspicious voice.  


The man gasped and Roman began to ponder if everyone whom he had come across (or, more who had come across him) was a cartoon character? (Again, he was in no place to judge).  


“Distrust?” The man gasped, his voice still dripping that sarcasm that made Roman figuratively narrow his eyes. “After all of this time we’ve known each other?”  


“Thousands of years cannot build trust with someone with a twisted tongue,” Roman said with a wave of his hand.  


The man snorted in a laugh that Roman _never_ would have expected. “You think my tongue is twisted?” he asked, laughter still hiding somewhere in the corners of his words. “Shall we just pretend to ignore how sexual that sounds?”  


“Why?” Roman whined. People were so exhausting about this kind of thing. Or maybe he’d been spending too much time with his brother.  


Roman opened his eyes, and his first thought upon seeing this man’s style was just ‘yes’. Just, yes. Dark and classy and _yes- _  
__

____

“Most normal people tend to,” the man shrugged.  


____

“I think we’ve established how un-normal this situation is.”  


____

“You certainly are rather, eccentric.” And despite the slight teasing in the man’s tone, he sat down next to Roman, then lay down with his head resting on his hands.  


____

“Finally a truth!” Roman declared, holding one accusing finger in the air.  


____

The man chuckled, Roman guessed it was through slightly pursed lips. “It may have been,” he said with mock-guiltiness.  


____

Roman finally did narrow his eyes because they were still open. “But how is one to know a truth in a world of lies.”  


____

The man hummed in exasperated agreement, joining Roman in staring up at the sky, with his head resting on his hands.  


__-  
_ _

“Why hello dear brother.”  


____

Well, it was another man, that much was for sure, but this time it was one that Roman knew, whether he liked it or not. Kidding! He liked his brother well enough.  


____

“Greetings mortal,” he replied, waving his hand in an imperious gesture.  


____

“As far as you know,” Remus muttered.  


____

Roman still had his eyes closed, so he wasn’t sure why Remus fell silent, but for a little while he did. This was, unusual behavior, to say the least. Roman let the arm that was resting over his eyes to fall to his side, and was about to open his eyes when his brother said, “Brain fried again?”  


____

Roman had learned his lesson with the last man to come by and he opened his eyes so that he could narrow them at the crude term for his incredibly technical issue.  


____

“Overheated, I’ll have you know,” he said, with fake bitterness in his voice.  


____

Remus fell heavily on the grass beside Roman, spreading his legs into nearly a split and leaning forwards to prop his head up on his elbows in a position that Roman could not fathom to be comfortable.  


____

“Either way I bet it would taste great with gravy,” he said, a small smile on his face.  


__Roman sat up and wrinkled his nose. “Cooked brain?” he asked, half disgusted and half pensive. He thought for a moment. “I suppose.”  
_ _

____

Remus’s eyes crinkled into a smile at that and Roman _really_ didn’t want to ask why he looked so sure.  


____

However hard he tried with his newly cleared head, Roman could not think of a more delicate way to ask the question that was in his brain. But, then again, Remus wasn’t exactly one for delicacy.  


____

“What are you doing here?”  


____

“Mushy head,” Remus whined, falling backwards and sticking his legs right up into the air before letting them fall back to the ground with a thud.  


____

Well, Roman supposed that they both had rather strange terms for it.  


____

“Ah,” Roman sighed. He finally sat up, listening to the symphony of cracks and pops emanating from his stiff back and stretching his arms. “Would you like to lie here?” He asked, rolling himself into a crouch. “I think I’m feeling better now.” He stood up and shook out his legs. It turns out, lying still for several hours really stiffens the joints, huh.  


____

Remus drew his arms back in and rolled over into the spot where Roman had previously been lying. “If it’s nice and warm for me,” he giggled.  


____

“Have fun.”  


____

Roman turned to go, but then remembered something and turned back. “There are some fascinating people who walk past here,” he said, his eyes slightly unfocused, “If you don’t scare them off you might get some good conversation.”  


____

“Scare them? Me? Never!” Remus declared, laying a hand on his chest in offence. His eyes were already closed. “Perhaps unsettle….”  


____

“See you soon, Brother Dear,” Roman called over his shoulder as he took off down the road.  


____

A shout came from behind him, making the people walking perpetually down that road stare. 

____

“Make sure you don’t boil your brain again!”  


____

__The sensible part of Roman was nodding sensibly in sensible agreement, but, Roman had an idea for something he wanted to write, and he had just the four characters for it. (And let’s face fact, the sensible part of Roman was very, very small)._ _


End file.
